


think, feel and behave

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Dawson's Creek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-21
Updated: 2003-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The downward spiral of Jack McPhie continues, set s.5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	think, feel and behave

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Zoe Rayne

 

 

Jack's inability to hold his liquor is just one more in a long series of disappointing personality traits. Or, he's not sure if that actually counts as a personality trait at all. It's probably physical. But, his tendency to do stupid things when drunk, that might be a personality trait. Jack wonders if this was the kind of thing he might have learned if he'd gone to more than four of his Psych 101 lectures. Either way, personality trait or physical imperfection, the point is that Jack's drunk and the bartender's eyeing him strangely. Really, Jack should leave, but he's already been to two other bars tonight and made a fool of himself, so he stays slumped over the table here. 

He started the evening just wanting out of the frat house and away from anything related to school. After an hour of wandering around the city, he turned around to find the Harbor and Liberty Hall right in front of him. He figured his fake would be no problem with Pacey there so headed in and straight to the bar. Now, the bitter taste of beer filling his mouth, Jack wishes he'd kept on wandering. 

"Pace," Jack shouted towards the open kitchen and Pacey looked over, a broad grin and a quick nod of his head. Jack hoisted himself up on a stool and tried his best to look old when the bartender approached. "Sam, please?" 

The bartender looked over at Pacey and shrugged, pulling the tap and filling a pint glass. Jack remembers sipping it and thinking maybe his night was going to get better after all. All the melancholy about grades and Jen and frat brothers and ex-boyfriends, it didn't seem as pressing there. Jack remembers that and looks around the small room he's in now, where he feels nothing but crushed. He thinks maybe he should avoid tiny, dreary dive bars, even if they are easier to get into. It's not worth the lack of atmosphere. But, this is where he always ends up and that probably means something. 

Earlier, he leaned back against the bar and drank, watching Pacey out of the corner of his eye. He looked good there, in the chef's coat, in charge of the kitchen. Jack thinks that at one point he was the one who had his shit together and Pacey was spending his time in dive bars. Jack sighs. That time seems incredibly far away now. 

Jack finished his beer and Pacey left the kitchen and approached him. "Jackers, what's going on?" 

Jack shrugged and spun around to face Pacey. "Drinking away my sorrows. You?" 

"I'm off now." Pacey tilted his head and studied Jack. "What sorrows?" 

Jack rolled his eyes, refused to actually think about that answer. "Grades, what else?" 

Pacey chuckled a little. "I'm so not sorry to be done with that. I mean, what's the point of going to college just to flunk out, right?" 

Jack frowned. "Right." Pacey reached out and swiped Jack's glass, handing it to the bartender. "I mean, not that you'd flunk out. You're smart." 

Pacey's lips quirked up in a familiar wry smile. "Yeah, that was some real conviction there. Thanks." 

Jack wonders how long it takes to get so used to being a complete fuck-up. He hopes it doesn't take that much longer. At the time, though, Jack just thought that at least Pacey looked hot with his low self-esteem, which was more than Jack could manage, so he said, "Well, at least you've got your looks." 

Six beers and a lot of embarrassment later, Jack realizes he probably shouldn't have said that but after everything else, he can barely work up the energy to regret it. 

Pacey raised one eyebrow and Jack thought that nothing involving eyebrows should be that hot. "Now, Jack, just a few days ago you were telling me that I wasn't all that hot. Have we had a change of heart?" 

Jack blinked and shrugged. "You know, I just-- You're not-- Not that you're hot, just--" He sounded like an idiot, he can tell that now and doesn't know why he didn't shut his mouth earlier. Eventually though, he stopped stammering and turned to the bartender to ask for another beer. When he turned back, beer slopping onto his hand, Pacey was staring at him. "What?" 

"How many of those you had, anyway?" 

Jack shrugged. He does that a lot lately. It hasn't seemed to help him actually not care about his shitty life, but it generally gets other people off his case. Pacey, though, was probably too familiar with the tricks of the trade. "A few." 

"Your sorrows gone yet?" Pacey sat down on the stool next to Jack and looked out over the restaurant. 

Jack adjusted his shoulders to imitate Pacey's casual pose. "For now." He watched a couple under one of the large windows feed each other forkfuls of cake. "That's enough." 

Pacey scoffed. "Yeah, no." He looked over at Jack and frowned. "Jack, man, I--" 

Jack inhaled and tipped his beer, taking a long swallow before setting the half-full glass down on the bar. "Pace, I just came by 'cause we had fun the other night. If I want a lecture, I've got Jen." Jack tossed a ten onto the bar and stood up. "Give me a call if you wanna go out or whatever." 

Jack has spent a good few weeks pretending none of his problems exist, despite the best efforts of his professors and Jen. He didn't need Capeside's black sheep to stop him now. If he'd just stuck with that idea and kept walking out of the bar, maybe he'd be back at the house in bed now. But, when he was three steps away from the door there was a hand on his shoulder. 

"Dude, fine. No lectures." Pacey's grinned again when Jack turned and he couldn't find anything hidden behind it, so he nodded. Jack wonders how many people's better judgment has been fucked over by Pacey's grin. "What are we doing?" Pacey asked. 

Jack bit his lip and swayed a little on his feet. "There's a club on Landsdowne. Cover's only five bucks." 

Pacey nodded. "Sounds great." 

Jack led the way to the T and off again. The club was dark and crowded, loud techno blaring and full of cute guys in sleeveless tops. 

Pacey looked down at his button-down shirt. "I feel overdressed." 

"Let's get you a drink, maybe you'll take off the shirt and fix that." Jack led Pacey to the bar in the back and laughed. Pacey was easy to flirt with. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Pacey's stood right behind Jack, pressed a little too close even in the crowded space. Jack didn't say anything, just ordered another beer and a Jack and Coke for Pacey. "See, you can't use that 'Pacey's not hot' line again. I might be stupid, but I'm vain enough not to fall for that twice." 

Jack spun around too quickly and splashed a little of Pacey's drink on his shirt. Even now he can't decide if he did it on purpose, but he wasn't going to admit it even if he did know, so "I didn't do that on purpose," he said before Pacey could even think about raising that eyebrow again. 

"Sure, Jack. You bring me to the gay bars and you get me drunk and you force my clothes off. And I believed you when you said you weren't recruiting." Pacey didn't take off his shirt, but he unbuttoned it to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. "This is all you get." 

Jack tried not to look, but really he didn't remember Pacey being so hot before. When he'd said that he wasn't, he thought he meant it. Jack handed him his drink and they watched the dance floor for awhile. Three more beers and Jack was dancing, first with a cute blond, then a tall dark guy and then just by himself in the middle of the floor. 

Jack twitches slightly at the memory of Pacey watching him the whole time, always following him with his eyes. Jack had looked up from the floor and waved Pacey down, but he just laughed a little and shook his head. Jack sighed and moved through the crowd until he was standing in front of Pacey. 

"Pace, come on. We're supposed to be having fun." He took Pacey's cup and swallowed the last of his drink. It was strong and Jack coughed a little. "Dance with me." 

"Jack, maybe we should get out of here." Pacey looked over Jack's shoulder and towards the door. "It's getting late." 

"We've been here an hour." Jack set his jaw and refused to look at Pacey straight on. 

"Yeah and you've had three beers. You're barely standing up out there." Pacey put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Jack. I'm not lecturing, but you've got class tomorrow." 

Jack looked at Pacey's hand pressed against Jack's t-shirt and then up at Pacey's serious expression. He laughed and really, he can't remember why. 

He remembers reading in high school that people under extreme stress can lapse into hysteria. Maybe that was it. He finishes beer number seven and decides that's one more Psych 101 kind of question. Jack starts making a mental list of all the personality disorders he might have. It's not like sanity runs in his family, anyway. And that's not something he wants to think about either. Jack congratulates himself on finding one of the few things he wants to think about less than he wants to relive the rest of his evening and considers buying another drink. He stands up and totters on his way to the bar. 

After he'd laughed at Pacey earlier and said, "Fuck class", Jack had tottered forward in a very similar manner. Pacey, being Pacey, had caught him, of course. Pacey seems to make a habit of catching people on their way down. Jack wonders what it says about Capeside that everyone's always falling. Still, then it had seemed like fate or something like it and Jack had laughed again and leaned into Pacey's embrace. Pressing forward more until Pacey was against the railing behind them, Jack had leaned forward and touched his lips to Pacey's, kissing lightly until he felt Pacey's mouth open under his own. He was just starting to deepen the kiss when he felt Pacey push him back. 

"Jack, man." 

Oh fuck, Jack remembers thinking and not much else. Just "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" over and over with maybe a few other curse words thrown in for good measure. He stepped back, bumping into someone who elbowed him back and uttered a sharp "excuse me." Jack stared at Pacey, who looked back, brows furrowed, maybe a little sad. 

"Hey, come on. Look, it's not a big deal. Trust me, I've had my kisses rejected by people way hotter than me." Pacey tried a hesitant smile. 

Pacey always went for the joke and normally that was something Jack appreciated, but then he just wanted out, so he'd looked quickly behind him, taken two steps back, turned and made his way out of the club, Pacey's "Jack" following behind. Outside, he'd hopped quickly into the first cab he saw and ended up just off campus at a dive near the house. And spent the next hour going over every stupid mistake in his head, getting progressively drunker and wishing he had Jen's Psych notes. 

Jack totters again on the second step towards the bar and the bartender stands straight up, eyes the bouncer and frowns at Jack. Jack sighs and decides not to put his fake to the test. He heads for the exit, mumbles "good night" as the bouncer lets him out into the cool air. He walks the few blocks home and groans loudly when he sees Pacey sitting on the front steps. 

"Just go home, Pace," you say and try to get around him on the steps. 

"Jack. Come on, Jack, just stop for a second, okay? And then I'll go." 

Jack stops, but doesn't turn around. "What?" 

"I don't care about whatever happened tonight. It's all good, but dude, you've gotta get your shit together. Nothing's gonna get better this way." 

Pacey's voice is even and not angry, which Jack thinks is pretty remarkable for someone who's been running all over town babysitting a head case all night. But then, that's always been Pacey's thing. 

"Look, Pace, it's nice of you not to be pissed that I tried to suck your face. I appreciate it. But for the rest of it, I don't think I need rescuing, so why don't you just save the hero complex for Audrey or whatever girl's next on your list." There's a soft hiss of breath from behind Jack and he thinks he's made his point. He should feel more satisfied than he does. "I'll talk to you later." 

Jack lets the frat house door slam behind him and winces at the noise. Maybe tomorrow he'll actually pull out that textbook and find out if there's a disorder where you alienate all your friends. 

 


End file.
